


Something for You

by hiddenvice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenvice/pseuds/hiddenvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s ridiculous for Sam to be jealous of a dead angel, but he is…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something for You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first round of the now defunct Sam/Dean Last Kink Standing challenge. Prompt: Future fic, tattoos/branding.

He’s thrusting into Dean, taking him in the most profound way he can, and Dean is shaking and panting under him, green eyes wide as he looks up at Sam. “Fuck… _Sam_ ,” he groans, and Sam shudders, tries not to come too soon.

“Dean, you… you feel so good,” he gasps out. His bangs are swinging in front of his eyes as he rocks back and forth, obscuring his vision, so he tosses his head, flipping the sweaty strands back off his face.

“Don’t – don’t stop,” Dean says, then grits his teeth when Sam gives him a particularly hard thrust. “Fuck, so big –”

“Too much?” Sam asks, but Dean just shakes his head, groans again. Sam has him bent almost double, the backs of his knees on Sam’s shoulders, and Dean can’t get any leverage with his legs. Sam loves this position because of how deep he can get—he loves pushing Dean as far as he can, skirting the edge of pleasure and pain. And Dean loves it, too. Sam watches him as he reaches back and grabs the headboard of the bed. “Dean,” he whispers, impossibly turned on by the way Dean’s muscles flex as he starts to thrust back onto Sam’s cock.

Sam feels his control slipping, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with his primal need to have. To _own_. He wants, God how he wants, all of Dean. His hopes and dreams. His memories and his future. His joy and his grief.

“Dean, I can’t lose you. I can’t –” he grabs the ball of Dean’s shoulder joint and actually growls when he feels the raised flesh under his palm, “can’t do this without you,” he finishes, low and rumbling.

It’s ridiculous for Sam to be jealous of a dead angel, but he is. He covers as much of the mark as he can and uses his grip there and on Dean’s opposite hip to move Dean up and down on his cock. Dean, who’s always had a thing for being manhandled, lets out a wordless shout and arches his back.

“No, not yet,” Sam snarls, and drops his hand down to Dean’s cock. He grabs it tightly, his long fingers circling around the base in a vice, and Dean cries out again as his orgasm is held back.

“Motherfucker!” he pants, glaring up at Sam once he’s come down a bit, and Sam grins back at him unrepentantly.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes flick back to Dean’s shoulder, and what he sees there has him even more determined to show Dean who he belongs to. He starts thrusting again, but now he wants Dean to just take it. He pulls Dean’s arms down so that he can’t push back against him, and covers both of his shoulders with his wide hands. “I’m never going to be done with you,” he growls, and Dean just… lets him do what he wants. Tilts his hips up and lets Sam pile drive into him. It’s too damn sexy for words, and Sam’s eyes roam over Dean’s face, the flushed skin of his chest. His arms…

It will always be there, a part of Dean. Seven years now, and the scar hasn’t faded in the slightest. Sam tightens his grip on that shoulder and tries not to dig his nails in too deep. “Fucking fuck fuck _fuck!_ ” he shouts, sweaty hair back to swinging in his face and making his eyes sting. Dean doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Sam as he fucks into him, and Sam is _so goddamned angry_. Even if he covers the spot with his hand, big enough to swallow the entire scar, it’s not enough.

It will never be enough. Because angel feathers, inked in black and vivid against Dean’s pale skin, fan out around Castiel’s handprint, extending down Dean’s arm and fanning up to kiss his collarbone. “Why – God, why do I –?” he starts, stops. His thrusts into Dean slow down and he feels tears well in his eyes. “Damn it, Dean…” he says, and lets his eyes fall closed. Dean’s shoulders are still pinned to the bed, his legs still up around Sam’s ears, but he reaches up, cradles Sam’s elbows in both of his hands.

“Hey, hey, Sam. It’s okay. I’m okay – shhhhhh…” he soothes, and Sam swallows, feels his Adam’s apple bob crazily in his throat.

“Almost lost you,” he rasps out. His cock is throbbing inside of Dean, and he pulls out, thrusts back in hard.

Dean gasps. “I’m still here.”

“Not if you keep –” he thrusts hard again, “taking stupid risks!” Sam is back up to full speed, thrusting with wild abandon, and he knows that Dean has to feel raw by now. “Fuck, Dean, I just… I love you so goddamned much!”

At that, Dean grips his elbows tight and arches his back, and Sam is shocked into silence at the sight of Dean coming untouched. Dean is so beautiful as he jerks under Sam, his eyes screwed shut and brow furrowed, and Sam watches raptly as Dean’s come spatters them both. Some of it paints Dean’s collarbone, landing across the edges of his tattoo, and Sam leans forward to lick it up, still jackhammering into Dean’s spent body. “Dean, Dean, Dean…” he murmurs, so turned on and so full of love for Dean, his impulsive, crazy brother, that he can’t stand it. “I do, I love you – love you.”

Dean, shivering through his orgasm, turns his head and whispers in Sam’s ear, “I love you, too,” and Sam comes with a low groan, his thrusts becoming uncoordinated as he empties inside his brother.

*****

Later, when they’re lying together on top of the sweaty, tangled sheets, Dean turns into Sam and cuddles up close. It’s unexpected—Dean never wants to cuddle after sex—but Sam likes it. He tucks Dean into him and runs a hand up Dean’s back and over the ball of his unmarked shoulder joint. The only thing that covers Dean here is a smattering of freckles, and Sam caresses the clean skin.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Dean says, low and gruff against Sam’s sweaty neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s some work I’ve been wanting to get done…”

“Hmmm?” Sam mumbles sleepily. “On the Impala?”

Dean shakes his head, his short, ungelled hair brushing against Sam’s skin, and Sam’s grip tightens on Dean’s shoulder.

“What then?” he asks, voice less sleepy now.

Dean’s tongue comes out, unintentionally licking against Sam as he licks his own lips. “Was thinking about getting something inked on my other shoulder. You know. For you.”


End file.
